Mirror Image
by Ciara Lewis
Summary: Well, heah's da epilogue. REVIEW! Next story is Paving the Way. Streetwise girl gets confused as da leadah of Brooklyn while dey're in da middle of a territorial fight wit Queens that the real Spot hasn't a clue about.
1. Default Chapter

CHAPTER 1:  
  
"C'mon! Get her, Boxer!"  
  
"Whatcha waiting fer?! Soak her!"  
  
Michaela circled her opponent, undaunted by the shouts from his fans. She pressed her advantage, coming up under his arm to throw for a punch to his left eye. Dese are da times dat I'm glad I'm short, she thought, sidestepping his leg as he kicked out at her. The fight was soon over, her beaten enemy lying on the ground, battered and bruised. Michaela raised her head, glaring at the silent crowd around her, most of which had been cheering their heads off seconds earlier. She stood up, cast a disdainful look at the thug on the ground, and walked away casually.  
  
Michaela glanced around out of habit for the Bulls, and seeing none, ducked into an alley. She fixed her hat, making sure it covered all traces of her long golden hair. I gotta remember ta keep me hat on. The last t'ing I want is more people finding out I'm a goil. Satisfied, she stepped out of the alley and strolled down the street. So...where next? I'se been ta Queens, Midtown, West Side, Manhattan's to boring ta go ta...Brooklyn? Her eyes glittered as she analyzed the possible ideal of Brooklyn. From what I've heard, it's very...active. I'll just see what it's like, she decided, blue eyes widely innocent, though her lips curved in a rather evil smile.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Clips glanced around the street anxiously. Lately, he and Kix had taken to selling in this particular section of town. Full of rich customers, it was ideal for a newsie. The area was somewhere between Brooklyn and Queens, so Spot and Fists, the leader of the Queens newsies, had declared the area a 'No Man's Land'. Every boy was allowed to sell there theoretically, but lately Queens had become overly protective of it. This had not gone over well with the territorial Brooklyn newsies, so now it was every newsie for himself. As far as Clips knew, Spot had no idea that his boys were getting into fights everytime they went into the 'No Man's Land'. Usually Spot knew about everything before it even happened, but Spot hadn't been around very much lately and his newsies had barely seen him.  
  
Clips called out a headline and stuck the profits into his pocket. Maybe dey won't come around today. He thought hopefully, just as a large group of boys walked out of a side street and headed menacingly towards Clips and Kix. Wishful thinking. He sighed, and signaled Kix. He didn't feel like getting into a fight today, but Spot's newsies had never been known to back out of a fight before, and they weren't about to start now.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Michaela reached the Brooklyn Bridge and stood there, uncertain for a moment. Maybe I'se should wait awhile befoah goin' ta Brooklyn. I have dis feelin'... I'm not scared of da fights, dough. Dat's easy 'nough. It's jist... A voice in the back of her head whispered, If Michael was here, I would go inta Brooklyn no problem.  
  
But he isn't, and hasn't been fer seven years, her expression hardened as she pushed painful memories from her mind. Michaela, youse can soak anyone ya choose, and yer scared ta go inta Brooklyn by yerself?! Michaela glanced down at her slingshot and her expression softened, remembering when she had first learned to use a slingshot.  
  
"Michael! Watch me shoot! Michael! I can hit that leaf, watch!" She jumped aroun her 5-year old twin brother, waving the slingshot above her head.  
  
"Ever since you taught me, I practiced! Didn't I? Watch, Michael!" She stopped moving and aimed the slingshot at a leaf in the big oak in their backyard. The marble hit the leaf hard and ripped it out of the tree.  
  
Michael watched it flutter to the ground. Michaela ran towards him and threw her arms about his neck. He pulled away, embarrassed. "And here I thought I was the best, 'chaela."  
  
She looked at him loyally. "You are," she said, then added smugly, "but I'm second best."  
  
Michaela sighed, and turned her attention back to reality. She felt her hat, checked her slingshot, and confidently stepped onto the Brooklyn Bridge. She tensed, then berated herself, and confidently walked across the bride, into Brooklyn.  
  
Several minutes later, she heard yells coming from the direction of the docks. I wonder what dat is? She picked up her pace, and reached a large crowd gathered around something. Michaela pushed her way roughly through to see what was the center of attention. A big, muscular teenage boy was picking on a small child who looked about six. Big bully, Michaela thought angrily as she stepped away from the group towards the teenager.  
  
"Stop. Messin'. Wit'. Dat. Kid." She said between clenched teeth, clenching her fists and raising them. Of course she didn't think he would, considering she looked slightly less than menacing, being a whole foot and a half shorter than him. So you can understand her shock and surprise when the huge bully turned around and went white.  
  
The boy quickly dropped his hand from the little kid's shirt who promptly ran away. "Coise, Spot," he stammered and dashed away. In fact, the entire crowd seemed to have disappeared. Michaela dropped her fists and looked around the deserted street in suprise.  
  
"Who's Spot?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Later that night, Spot Conlon walked into the Brooklyn Lodging House to find all the boys looking innocently up at him. A group was huddled in the corner, obviously trying to hide something.  
  
"What is it?" Spot asked suspiciously.  
  
"Not'in'. Just a poker game." Spot's second, Spinz said nervously.  
  
"All, right. I'm goin' ta my room." Why do I not believe dem? He thought sarcastically.  
  
Kix sighed in relief. Just as Clips had predicted, the odds hadn't been that great and they had both been soaked.  
  
Spinz watched them in disapproval while one of the other newsies, nicknamed 'Doc' bandaged Clips arm to the best of his ability. "Ya know we can't keep Spot from finding out about this. He knows everythin' sooner or later. And ya know Loudmouth can't keep his mouth shut fer long." Loudmouth smiled slightly, opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Kix.  
  
"I know, I know. But what would Spot say if he knew his gang was gettin' soaked wit'in an inch of deir life all da time? Not dat it's our fault, or anyt'ing, considering dey always bring a gang of 'em against one or two of us. But, anyways," Kix ended on a pleading note, "we have ta try to keep it a secret for as long as we can."  
  
"But you guys aren't da ones who are gonna be blamed when someone gets more den jist a sprained arm. I am." Spinz dabbed at the blood above Kix's eye.  
  
"We can do what we always do when someone is hurt, keep a low profile til it's healed." Doc remained silent and listened to Clips argument with pinched lips.  
  
Spinz shrugged in exasperation, and looked to Doc for help. "What do ya think, Doc?"  
  
"I'm gettin' pretty tired of bandaging dese boys all da time. I see where Kix and Clips is comin' from, but first it was Sticks, den Flash and Muscles, den dese two. Sticks and Muscles are barely healed, and Flash has a black eye which it is just by good fortune dat Spot hasn't noticed yet." Doc said all this in one breath, then resumed his silence. He had just said as much in one breath as he usually did in a week, so the others knew they weren't going to get anything else out of him.  
  
"Awright," Spinz said, "here's da deal. I'll keep quiet about dis, and I'll make sure Loudmouth does too," he pinned the boy with a glare that stopped him from any ideas he might have had, "but it's not my fault when someone gets really hurt and Spot's too mad at youse ta be mad at da Queens' newsies." 


	2. memories

CHAPTER 2:  
  
Spot watched his newsies lazily. Finished with selling their papers, all the boys were taking advantage of the bright sunshine. They swarmed around the docks, swimming and generally creating an uproar. Might as well see how Jacky-boy's doin', Spot thought, jumping down from his pier. He made his way towards a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes about to dive into the water.  
  
"Heya, Spinz." Spot smirked as the newsie spun around, lost his balance, and fell into the water. Spinz came up sputtering with his face flaming. He quickly pulled himself out of the water, "Yeah, Spot?"  
  
"I'm goin' ta Manhattan. Yer in charge." With that, Spot left the dripping second-in-command and headed towards Manhattan.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Michaela decided that someone must have been behind her, scaring all the boys off. Funny dat I didn't see him, she shook her head to clear it. Oh, well. It doesn't mattah. Her mind wandered again, curious about what had happened. She particularly remembered the boy saying, "Of coise, Spot."  
  
Where have I hoid dat before??? Michaela thought back, rummaging through her memories.  
  
"Wait for me, Michael!" Michaela tucked up her dress and darted after her brother.  
  
"Isn't that your new dress? Mother doesn't want you to get it dirty." Michael eyed the pink gingham dress dubiously.  
  
"Yes, but I've got other dresses, she'll never notice one missing. Besides, I hate pink. C'mon! We're missing the game." The two children ran over to the group of kids waiting for them.  
  
"Michael, you can't bring your sister. She's a girl," the kid in front of them protested. The rest of the children nodded.  
  
Michael looked at them angrily, even though he was only six, and they were several years older than him. "She's my sister, she goes where I go." His ice-blue eyes stared coldly at them, daring them to refuse his sister.  
  
The boys all looked down at their shoes. "Oh, um… of course, Michael. Sorry."  
  
Ugghhh, why is everyt'in' suddenly remindin' me of him??? Usually dis doesn't happen. Michaela took a deep breath in to calm the uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.  
  
Hmmm, I wonder who Spot is though…  
  
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the boy until she knocked into him. Her head jerked up and she saw a tall, brown- haired newsie in front of her. His arm was bandaged up and she could see a bit of dried blood on the cloth. He was looking down at her sourly, but when she tilted her face into the light, he went pale.  
  
"Spot! Um..." He quickly covered his arm and smiled brightly at her. "It's nothing, really. I…um, knocked myself down while sellin', and hit my arm."  
  
Michaela stared at him wondering if he was insane, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
Another boy joined them nervously. He was slightly shorter than the first boy and had bleached blonde hair, but was just as pale. "I saw it happen Spot. Really. Nothin' ta get alarmed 'bout. Clips is fine." Suddenly, he turned whiter and touched his eye. Michaela spared a glance at the rather large gash right underneath his eye and narrowed her eyes at him. What's goin' on? Why do dey t'ink I care about dis?  
  
"Oh, um, I ran into a wall. But we're fine now." Both boys looked at her pleadingly, as if begging her to forgive them.  
  
Michaela rolled her eyes. Awright, fine. Dis is so obviously a bunch of lies, but I'll go along wit' it. "It's okay. I don't care. Really." They sighed, relieved.  
  
"Well, den we'll see youse later."  
  
Michaela watched them go. Okay, now dat was really weird.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Spot stepped into Tibby's and walked over to the booth that Jack and several other newsies were sitting talking. "Heya, boys," he slid in beside Race, while everyone greeted him.  
  
"What brings ya ta dese parts?" Jack asked, busy trying to order his food.  
  
"Nothin'. Jist t'ought I'd come and see youse all. So, what's happenin'?"  
  
"Oh, hold on. Do ya want anything, Spot?" Jack asked, turning from the waiter.  
  
"No, I'm not hungry."  
  
Kid Blink grinned at Spot and waved his free hand at Race. "Race heah lost all his money at da racetrack and is tryin' ta get us ta pay fer his lunch."  
  
Spot shrugged. "What else is new?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Michaela wandered throughout the streets of Brooklyn and sighed. Well, now what? She walked by a bakery and stopped to smell the breads. Dey sure smell delicious. Lunchtime. Michaela surveyed the people rushing about until she spotted an ideal man. Brushing expertly past him, she swiped a handful of change from his pocket, and strode towards the door of a bakery.  
  
A little while later, she came out with two rolls of bread. Biting into one, she walked down the street. All right, now I'm refreshed. Time fer a swim. By the time she reached the docks, she had finished one roll, and was halfway through the other.  
  
A boy with blonde hair ran up to her right as she was licking her fingers. "Spot! Clips and Kix told me dat youse knew 'bout deir wounds. I knew da entire time, and I just didn't want ta worry youse. I really am sorry."  
  
Heah we'se go again. "It's okay, jist…um,"  
  
What am I supposed ta say? "Jist don't do it again."  
  
Now go away, please?  
  
"Ok....um, thanks. Oh, look I gotta go." The boy trotted off. A short kid walked (or strutted, whichever way you want to put it) up to her.  
  
"Heya, Spot. Ya know, youse ain't supposed ta know dis, but seein' how we're such good chums an' all, I t'ought it was my duty ta tell youse-"  
  
"Look, um…uh…"  
  
"Loudmouth, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, well, I don't have time ta talk right now, sorry." Michaela walked quickly away from him. Now dis is startin' ta get on my nerves.  
  
"Spot!" Michaela groaned and put her head down. She broke into a fast walk, just as two boys reached her. "Spot, da Delanceys are here, can we soak 'em?"  
  
"YES! I mean, uh, sure, go ahead." Michaela ran away from them. Suddenly, she seemed surrounded by boys and realized she was on the docks. NO!!! I can't get away!  
  
"Heya, Spot!" Be quiet, she thought bitterly.  
  
"How ya doin' Spot?" Terrible.  
  
"Whatcha runnin' from?" You.  
  
"Look, Spot, my eye got bruised when Spinz ran up to me and accidentally knocked my eye wit' his um, elbow. So do ya know where Doc is?" No, I don't even know who he is.  
  
I wish dey would just shut up, all of dem.  
  
"Oh, if it isn't the famous Spot Conlon. The one and only." Sarcasm is da lowest form of humor.  
  
"Do youse want us to beat dese Delanceys," one of the boys, Spinz, I t'ink, said, jerking his head at the two sarcastic ones, "clear back inta Manhattan?" Yes, and while your at it, get rid of everyone else, too.  
  
"Oh, Spot, we just came to see you, seein' as youse is so famous."  
  
Finally, Michaela had had it. She looked up at them all, blue-gray eyes glinting dangerously. Most of the newsies took a few steps backwards from the look in her eyes. She took a step closer to them threateningly. "Look, I'm sick and tired of youse all talkin' ta me. I don't care. I DON'T CARE!!! DON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE! NONE OF YOUSE! EVER!!!"  
  
The newsies all looked at her wide-eyed, and opened their mouths, seemed to think better of it, and nodded their heads emphatically. The two boys called the Delanceys looked at each other and began to walk away hurriedly.  
  
Michaela looked at them triumphantly and turned around calmly. Dis place is unnerving me. I am definitely heading ta Manhattan. Hopefully I'll get dere before it's too dark and den I'll stay dere for awhile.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Spot stood up. "Well, I better leave ya ta yer papes." He smirked teasingly and said, with the utmost contempt, "Coise, Jacky-boy, if youse were faster, youse could be done by now. Ya know, like me." Spot Conlon ducked the newspaper thrown in his direction and headed out the doorway.  
  
Spot walked down the street, chuckling to himself. Out of habit, when he passed by the blacksmith's, he stopped and looked inside, watching the huge man bent over the table. Boy, that man almost looks like Dad.  
  
Michaela and Michael walked into their father's workshop with his lunch. Jake Conlon was a blacksmith, and loved his work so much he often didn't come home to eat. Sometimes, their mother would send them with food so he wouldn't starve himself.  
  
Michaela nudged her brother. "There he is!"  
  
"I know, I see him, 'chaela."  
  
"Daddy!!" They ran towards him, excitedly. A tall, thin man turned around, startled. He put down what he was working on and sighed.  
  
"What did I tell you two last time you were here?" He asked, accepting the basket of food.  
  
"That this was no place for seven-year old children." The twins quoted from memory together.  
  
"Yes," he gave them a hug, "Now run along."  
  
Their father turned back to his work at the anvil. They began to walk away, but Michael turned to look back. Flying sparks were everywhere, and he walked closer to see what his dad was working on. Nothing but a boring old piece of metal. Michael started back towards his sister, when suddenly something hot and sharp sliced through the skin on his ankle.  
  
"OWWWWW!!!" His father spun around. Michaela screamed and ran to her brother's side.  
  
"Your bleeding, Michael!" She stared in horror at the bloody line running from one side of his ankle to the other. Their father dropped to his knees and picked him up.  
  
"Michaela, I'm taking Michael to the doctor, tell your mother." Michaela jumped up and ran out of the room, just as Michael passed out.  
  
Spot was pulled from his reverie by the man yelling at him. "Get outta here! Don't you kids know, your not allowed in here! You'll destroy everyt'in'!" 


	3. Silence

CHAPTER 3:  
  
The next morning, Spot woke up late, and climbed out of bed. Last night he had gotten back so late that he hadn't seen any of the newsies since yesterday morning. He got dressed and walked out into the other boys' bunkroom.  
  
Spot immediately felt like he had stepped into a graveyard. There was complete and total silence. Not even a peep from Loudmouth.  
  
He looked around, confused. Clips, Kix, and Flash were nearest him and he realized suddenly that he hadn't seen them around for awhile. Spot glanced lazily around the room, and froze. He slowly pivoted around and stared at Kix, Flash, and Clips, who were silently getting dressed.  
  
Spot stared at them for a minute, not believing his eyes. Kix had a huge gash right below his eye, Clips had a bandaged arm, and Flash had a black eye. Spot narrowed his eyes, and walked across the room angrily. He yanked Spinz up by his shirt.  
  
"How did they get those?" Spinz didn't say anything, but widened his eyes nervously.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me 'bout dem?" Nothing.  
  
"Why aren't you talkin'? Answer me!" The newsies quickly became occupied in whatever they were doing. Spot seethed, and angrily shoved Spinz away from him. What's goin' on?!  
  
Spot marched across to Kix and picked him up. "Where'd ya get dat?" He nodded at Kix's eye. Kix grimaced, but remained silent.  
  
"WHY WON'T YOUSE ALL ANSWER ME WHEN I'M TALKIN' TA YOUSE? WHATSA MATTAH WIT' ALL OF YOUSE?!" Spot shouted. Spot glared threateningly around the room. He dropped Kix and walked over to Spinz, who was still standing where Spot left him. Spot punched him once furiously, spun around, and went out the door, slamming it shut.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Michaela awoke in the morning to find herself drenched with rain. I knew da beautiful weather couldn't last. She stood up and stretched, shaking herself. The rain poured down harder until she could barely see anything through the fog. Michaela pulled her hat down over her eyes and walked slowly out of the alleyway. Dere's gotta be better shelter some place else.  
  
Her stomach growled and she glared at the ground. Great. I'm starvin' and all of da stores are closed. It's a miserable day. Michaela looked up and through the downpour of rain, saw an overhang to a store and ran towards it in relief.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Racetrack picked up his pace towards the Lodging House. On the way he berated himself. Stupid, dat's what you are. Leaving the nice, warm comfort of a bed for dis. A nice stroll is jist what I needed, isn't it? It was a beautiful day yesterday, it will be gorgeous today, huh, Race?  
  
He lifted his soggy cap off his head and twisted some of the water out of it, replacing it only to fill with water just as quickly. Race glanced down the street and noticed a small figure huddled under a store edge. He rubbed his eyes to get the water out of them. Hey, is dat Spot? What's he doin' out here on a day like dis?  
  
"SPOT!!!!!" He called out, running towards him. He's prolly here ta see Jack.. "HEY, SPOT!!!!!"  
  
Michaela's head snapped up, just in time to see a slightly shorter boy start to run towards her calling out something.  
  
"SPOT!!!"  
  
Not again, Michaela thought despairingly. Oh, why is all a New York suddenly gone crazy?  
  
Race ran a few more paces and stopped, looking around. Where'd he go? He was here a second ago, but jist disappeared...  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spinz's whole body relaxed as Spot left. He delicately touched his eye and winced. The newsies looked up at him, confused.  
  
"It's as if he didn't remembah what he told us yestaday." Loudmouth said, staring in awe at the door.  
  
"Dat really hoit." Kix said, winced as he rubbed where he had landed on the ground.  
  
"I t'ink maybe we should have gone sellin' taday." Spinz sighed regretfully.  
  
Streamers looked out the window. "It's pourin' rain out dere, no one would be outside taday. All da stores are probably closed, too."  
  
"Yeah, but it doesn't look as if dat stopped Spot." Clips said, as he watched Spot's figure fade into the fog outside.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spot kicked at the street. His thoughts went back and forth between lecturing himself and letting himself off the hook. My boys are getting hoit, and I don't even know 'bout it. Well, it's not my fault, dey were probably hiding from me. But dey were dere dis morning. And den, why weren't dey talkin'?! Spot loaded his slingshot and shot at a tree in frustration. It was as if dey were ignorin' deir own leader. Never mind, dey were ignorin' deir own leader. Dey didn't even react to my temper. ARRGGHHH!!!  
  
If those cuts give them a scar, I'll never forgive myself, Spot thought, remembering how it felt to know he would always have a reminder of a stupid mistake.  
  
"Well, what happened?" Michaela asked her brother, worriedly. Her father put him down on the sofa and she pulled his pants up to his knees, so she could see his ankle. Michael smiled at her.  
  
"I'm fine, I'll just have a scar there."  
  
"For how long?"  
  
"Probably for his entire life," Mr. Conlon said, "but it won't be that noticeable. The real problem was the bit of metal caught in the skin there, the doctor had to take it out very carefully."  
  
Eliza Conlon sighed in relief and sank down onto a chair. "Can he walk?"  
  
"Not for awhile, Mom, but I can soon."  
  
Michaela stared at the scar which would be on her brother from now on. She frowned at it, running her finger lightly down it.  
  
Spot shook himself and walked faster to forget the sister who he would never see again. He managed to succeed, at least for the time being.  
  
Spot spent the rest of the day wandering the streets of Manhattan deep in thought. He finally got over berating himself, but still felt slightly guilty and angry. I probably shouldn't go back til later tonight, when I'm calmed down more. Well, one t'ing is obvious. My boys have not jist all been hurting demselves accidentally. Dey have been getting' inta fights. Now da question is, wit' each udder or others?  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Michaela sat on her perch on the roof of a building and glanced down at the streets. The boy gradually went away, and she sighed with relief. He's gone, good. Michaela quickly jumped down and returned to her sheltered place. I've really got to find out why everyone thinks I am this Spot guy. Who is Spot, anyway? The name sounds familiar... Michaela shook her head and slid down the wall to the ground. She put her chin on her fist and stared off into space. Spot. Spot. Spot...who is he??? 


	4. Hit

CHAPTER 4:  
  
The next day dawned bright and sunny. Michaela sat slumped against the wall of the building, curled into a sleeping ball. Soon, people began to come and go on the streets and open up their stores. A man walked towards the shop she was at and kicked her out of the way in order to open the door. As he did, delicious smells filled the air. Michaela lifted her head sleepily and peered around the door.  
  
The store was filled with goodies and sweets, and it made Michaela's mouth water just to look at them. I've got ta get money and buy some, she thought greedily.  
  
She eyed the crowd and speculated on the elderly gentleman with the cane. I am way too prejudice against robbing people with canes. Geez, half the rich people in New York carry canes! If only that stupid memory wouldn't pop up every single time I get ready to pounce on a guy with a cane. ARRGHH!!!!!!  
  
Mrs. Conlon walked into the room, carrying the cake and singing Happy Birthday while the two kids watched the candles, which flickering brightly.  
  
Michael and Michaela looked at each other and grinned. As one, they blew out the candles and closed their eyes.  
  
Michaela turned to her brother, "What did you wish for?"  
  
"I can't tell, or it won't come true."  
  
Michaela giggled, "I forgot."  
  
"So, who's going to open the first present?" Mrs. Conlon asked, cutting the cake.  
  
"Michaela!" Michael announced as he pulled out a small present. Michaela smiled and opened it, revealing a new slingshot.  
  
Michael pointed to the wooden handle, "Look! There is our names carved into it, I've been working on it for the past week or so."  
  
Michaela hugged her brother and picked it up. Michael handed her a couple of marbles that he had forgotten to wrap, and she put one on the band and aimed.  
  
"No, Michaela! Not inside!" Mr. Conlon said with a laugh at her impatience.  
  
"Oh, all right, but Michael now has to open my present." She handed him a long package wrapped sloppily in paper.  
  
Michael eyed it happily, and grinned at his sister. He quickly picked it up and ripped the wrapping paper off it. For a moment he just sat staring at his gift, eyes wide and disbelieving.  
  
A beautiful black cane with an intricately-carved gold top lay inside. Michaela watched his face with pleasure, "I knew you would love it, and even if you don't need it after awhile, I know you would love just walking around with it, because it's so neat."  
  
Michael flashed a delighted grin at her and stood up with the cane, testing it out. "I'll always bring it with me wherever I go."  
  
Nope, not happenin'. Michaela thought, putting her hands over her ears and humming to herself. Soon a blonde woman dressed in silks and jewels stepped out of a carriage daintily and floated toward an upper-class restaurant across the street. Michaela quickly moved into position and lightly brushed by the woman. Just as her fist closed around the woman's purse, the woman happened to turn around.  
  
"Roger, remember to..." Michaela looked wide-eyed into the woman's face and panicked. She was starving, jittery, and immediately took off, clutching at the purse. "STOP!!! THIEF!!! COME BACK HERE!!!!" the woman screamed.  
  
Uh oh, Michaela looked back over her shoulder as whistles filled the air. She caught a glimpse of blue uniforms on horses before she turned the corner. There goes breakfast.  
  
A group of police came up the alley behind her, and Michaela scrambled over the fence. The purse strap got caught and she tugged at it frantically. "Come on, come on! COME LOOSE, STUPID STRAP!!!"  
  
Finally, it gave and she grabbed the purse and ran from the alleyway as fast as her legs could take her.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Spot woke up to bright sunlight streaming into his room. Outside the door was complete and total silence. Awright, dis had gotta end right now. He jumped out of bed, changed, and stepped into the other room. Everyone looked at him silently, and then turned back to getting ready for the day.  
  
"Awright, everyone. Youse have all had yer day of fun, now youse all need ta start talkin'. Right now. No more givin' me da silent treatment, unless youse wanna be kicked out." Spot looked around and pinned each boy with a glare that made them squirm. With that, every newsie in the room began chattering loudly, each worried for his own sake.  
  
Good, now dat is done. But somet'ing is still goin' on. Maybe Jack'll know somet'in'.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Spot reached Manhattan quickly and went to the Circulation Office in hopes of catching Jack there. The last newsies were getting their papers, and Jack was always the first. Spot ran to Jack's selling area, and searched the crowds wildly. There he is!  
  
"Jack! Hey, Jack!" Jack spun around and grinned when he saw Spot.  
  
"Need sellin' tips, Oh So Fast One?"  
  
Spot smiled sarcastically. "Haha, very funny. I need ta talk ta you."  
  
Jack shook his head. "I'm sellin'. Couldn't it wait? All da customers will be gone by da time we're done."  
  
"No. I need ta talk ta you now."  
  
Jack shrugged, giving up. "C'mon. Let's go ta Tibby's."  
  
Spot quickly led the way, with Jack following half-heartedly, looking at the swarms of people wistfully.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Michaela ran across the Brooklyn Bridge, away from the police. Ya know, come ta t'ink of it, I like Brooklyn bettah. Brooklyn, here I come!  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Jack looked at Spot. "So, what is it?"  
  
Spot twirled his straw around on his fingers. ""Ummm...Jacky-boy? Ya see, I'm having a slight problem. Me boys are going crazy." He looked up to see how Jack would respond to that.  
  
Jack stared at him. "Whadda youse mean by dat?"  
  
"I mean jist dat. Dey are givin' me da silent treatment, ignorin' me, not respondin' ta my tempers, and yesterday mornin' I found out dat Clips, Kix, and Flash, all have injuries."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, I didn't know 'bout dem. Spinz didn't even tell me." Jack leaned back in his chair. Dat is pretty amazin'. Spot usually knows everyt'ing before it even happens. And da Brooklyn newsies are too scared of Spot ta ignore him…What's goin' on?  
  
"I don't know, Spot. Seems pretty weird ta me." Spot rolled his eyes.  
  
"Ya t'ink?" Spot sipped from his drink, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I got dem ta talk dis mornin', I basically had ta force dem ta speak. Dey seemed scared ta, as if dey would get in trouble if dey did."  
  
Jack stood up and looked down at Spot. "Has it occurred ta youse ta jist ask dem? Dey'll have ta answer now."  
  
Spot straightened and stood up. "Yeah, I'm gonna get ta da bottom of dis right now!" He pushed through the door and down the streets. Okay, I'm gonna tell dem dat dey bettah explain ta me what's goin' on, or I'll…or I could say dat… Just as he was about to cross the Brooklyn Bridge, he heard shouts.  
  
"KID! WATCH OUT!!!"  
  
Spot twisted around in time to see a carriage coming at him, full speed.  
  
BAM!!!  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Spinz, Clips, and Kix walked down No Man's Land, selling papers sulkily. "Does it evah feel ta youse two dat you can nevah do anyt'ing right?" Spinz asked, growling out a headline.  
  
"Well, recently." Clips nodded his head and shoved money into his pants.  
  
Kix looked around speculatively. "I t'ink da customers are avoidin' us. Maybe dey can tell we're in bad moods."  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised. Jist one more t'ing ta add on ta dis horrible day." Clips kicked a rock and watched it roll over to a group of boys standing a few feet ahead of them. He nudged the others and Kix and Spinz looked up swiftly.  
  
The Queens newsies looked down at them condescendingly. Their leader stepped forward. Fists stared at them smugly. "Tell Spot we changed our minds. We don't wanna share dis place anymore. Tamorrow, da Bridge, be dere, if yer not chicken."  
  
Spinz straightened up, immediately feeling proud he was the second. "We'll be dere. Bettah say yer prayers."  
  
A few of the Queens newsies laughed. "We don't need ta." 


	5. Fire

CHAPTER 5:  
  
Mr. Conlon sighed and picked up his belongings. He had just been fired from his job and knew that they were going to have to do a lot of things to adjust to this new life, and this loss of money.  
  
Mr. Conlon walked home, heavy with the knowledge that soon his family would be split. He walked in the door and shook his head at his wife, before a hopeful expression could fill her beautiful blue eyes. She sighed and smiled bravely at the children who sat at the table, wide-eyed and worried.  
  
Michaela got up and hugged her father. She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. "Dad? What's going on?"  
  
Mr. Conlon brought his gaze slowly down to hers, and patted her head. "Daddy isn't going to work as a blacksmith anymore, Michaela."  
  
Michael jumped up and hobbled quickly towards Mr. Conlon, staring hard at him. "Why not?"  
  
"Well, for alot of reasons."  
  
Michaela nodded her head sadly and asked, "What are we going to do now?"  
  
Mrs. Conlon stood up and put her arm around the children's shoulders. "Daddy and Michaela are going to go to Queens for a little while and Dad is going to work in a factory there for a little white, until we can go back to the way things used to be."  
  
Michaela shrank back from them and looked up frightened. "Why am I going?"  
  
"Well, honey, we thought that one of you should go to keep your father from getting lonely, and Michael really shouldn't leave here until his leg heals more."  
  
Michaela whispered, "When?"  
  
"Tomorrow, sweetie. But tonight we are going to have fun and not even worry about tomorrow."  
  
Michael brought his head up and bravely met his father's gaze. "What are me and mom going to do here?"  
  
Mr. Conlon hugged Michael and bent down. "Mommy is going to be a seamstress here, and you are going to help her."  
  
***  
  
Spinz sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He paced to the other side of the room and back. "WHERE IS HE??"  
  
The other newsies sitting on their bunks and on the floor shrugged and looked at each other nervously.  
  
"WHAT IF HE DECIDED TO PICK TONIGHT TO GO VISIT THE BRONX OR STAY IN MANHATTAN? What are we going to do tomorrow if he doesn't show tonight?!"  
  
Clips stood up and pulled Spinz down to the ground. "Spinz. You're panicking. Calm down."  
  
Spinz waved his hand agitatedly and opened his mouth. Clips cut him off, "No. Here, play cards."  
  
***  
  
Michaela stared around the small one-room apartment her and her dad would share for who knows how long. Her fingers were clutched so tightly to her bag handle they were turning white. She looked at the ground and delicately set her bag on it, wincing as it's clean bottom touched the filthy floor.  
  
"Um, it's very nice," she said, walking over to the small window and making a circle in the dust with her fist. She looked through it and stared dismally at the huge factory that loomed right outside.  
  
Mr. Conlon rubbed his hands together and surveyed the room thoughtfully. "Well, this could definitely use your mother's touch."  
  
He walked over to the cot on the floor and shook out the single sheet on it, then brushed off the surface of the cot.  
  
Michaela watched him for a moment, and asked, "Where am I going to sleep?"  
  
"We have to share a bed for awhile, or I could sleep on the floor."  
  
Michaela nodded and tugged on his hand. "When can we eat? I'm hungry."  
  
Mr. Conlon sighed and tilted his head towards his bag. "Mommy packed us a lunch. You go ahead, I have to go to the factory for a little while. I should be back in a couple of hours. Or if you want, you could come with me."  
  
Michaela shook her head, "I'll be fine, go ahead."  
  
Mr. Conlon patted her shoulders and walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back soon."  
  
Michaela stared after him for several minutes, then shook herself and began using a shirt as a makeshift broom to sweep the floor with, forgetting completely about her hunger.  
  
***  
  
Michaela ventured out from under the dock after she felt it was safe. She looked cautiously around and breathed a sigh of relief. There were no policemen about. She knew she couldn't be seen in Manhattan for quite awhile, however. Her face was only too recognizable to someone who had seen her close-up.  
  
Michaela grumbled in annoyance. Darn it. Stupid woman. Stupid man wit' da cane. Stupid memory. I could easily have gotten away wit' dat old guys money in a second. But no. Now I have ta be on da run. Again. ***  
  
Michael stared at the newspaper in shock. It had been a month since he had last seen his father and sister, and he had just happened to glance at the headline on the newspaper...QUEENS FACTORY GOES UP IN FLAMES.  
  
Just yesterday, a Queens metal factory burst into flames, killing almost all of the factory workers and occupants of the surrounding buildings. One surviving factory worker said this, "...it was terrible, one second we were all working, and the next, there was this loud explosion from one of the machines. We all ran, and only a couple of us got out."  
  
Michael stared at the paper in disbelief. Father…dead. Michaela…Michaela! Michael ran inside and shouted to his mother, "MOM!"  
  
"What, Michael?" She asked, glancing up from her work.  
  
"Where was the apartment Dad and 'Chaela stayed in?" He asked breathlessly, clutching the newspaper.  
  
"Right next to the factory, why?"  
  
Michael sank to his knees and cried, holding out the paper with a shaking hand.  
  
***  
  
Michaela's stomach grumbled and she kicked at the street, angrily. She had a definitely bad day, her mind kept replaying memories of after the fire, and every part of her body ached. Now even her stomach was against her. To make it worst, for some reason she happened to glance up and there had to be a factory right in front of her, making her memories more vivid and less easy to forget.  
  
"DADDY! DADDY!" The eight year old wailed as she stared into the  
  
red flames licking at the walls of the factory. The black smoke curled around her and pressed into her nose and mouth. She fell to the ground with sooty tear streaks streaming down her face.  
  
Coughing, she squinted across the street through her burning eyes at the apartments she had been living in. Firemen were running everywhere, shouting and yelling to each other, carrying buckets and crude hoses.  
  
Michaela crawled forward a few feet, but the smoke overtook her and she collapsed in a heap of dirty rags.  
  
***  
  
Spinz watched the Queens newsies approach nervously. This was not good. The Brooklyn newsies moved restlessly, muttering to theirselves and casting dark glances down the deserted streets, half-expecting their leader to appear suddenly from the black shadows.  
  
A smirk played at the edges of the Queens leader's mouth. The famous Spot Conlon wasn't there ta protect his boys? Too bad. 


	6. Who? Me?!

Hi guys! Now, I know I haven't written any of these author's notes things before, but that's because I've just realized HOW to do one. (yes, I know, I'm very slow.)But that's okay. Anyways, this is a short chapter, cause it sounded like a good place to stop for the time being. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!! Yes, go to the little blue button, and review!  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 6:  
  
The Brooklyn leader was, as a matter of fact, just fluttering his eyelids. Images swam in front of his eyes as he fought to focus on his surroundings.  
  
"Excuse me, sir? Have you seen this girl? She's my sister, see, and-"  
  
Michael wandered through the crowds, playing on the sympathies of the kind ladies and gentlemen. Someone had to have seen Michaela. She wasn't among the dead found in the factory, like his father.  
  
The memory of his father, eyes wide and white, mouth open, hair singed and burnt, with his entire left arm scorched, would remain in the boy's mind forever. The man he had loved so much, dead.  
  
And the sister he had loved so much…nowhere. Her remains hadn't been found in the buildings, and no one had seen her. His mother and the firemen had told Michael that there was no way Michaela could still be alive. Even if she had survived the fire, an eight year old girl wouldn't have survived for six months in New York. Not even for six days.  
  
His mother. She was sick, and he knew it. She didn't have much longer to live, though she continued a brave front when around him. There were many times at night, however, when he would fall asleep listening to the sounds of her ragged, hacking cough, in replacement of the soft gentle lullabies she used to sing to the twins.  
  
The old doctor was a regular 'visitor' at their house now. He would come at least once a day, slipping her medicine and talking with the boy.  
  
Sometimes Michael would listen at the door of his mother's bedroom when she thought he was outside, and he would hear his low voice speaking. "Mrs. Conlon, you're sick. If you don't leave New York, there is no way you are going to get better. You need fresh air, not the stuffy, dirty streets here."  
  
Her soft reply would answer him, changed only by the grating noise in her voice. "Mr. Davidson, you don't understand. We can't leave. We have nowhere to go, Michael spends all his time looking for Michaela, I spend my time in bed, we have no money. We are only living in this apartment for the time being because of the generosity of the owner."  
  
The argument would continue for weeks, with Mrs. Conlon gradually getting sicker. One day Michael came home, dirty and depressed, to find movers taking things out of their home.  
  
Spot's eyes fully opened and he raised himself up. He looked around confused. There was no one around. Shaking his head to clear it, he vaguely remembered being hit by a carriage. Musta left as soon as dey found no damage ta it, not carin' about a "street rat", he thought bitterly.  
  
Spot stood up, gripping the rail of the bridge to steady himself. Wow, he thought, I musta been hit hard.  
  
"There he is!" Shouts and whistles were heard from the Manhattan side of the bridge, and police officers could be seen running towards Spot.  
  
Huh? What? Spot twisted around, barely having time to look at da Bulls before he was grabbed and knocked unconscious.  
  
***  
  
Michaela walked down the street, whistling. She had managed to fight off her depression, and had coined a piece of fruit from a vendor without arousing any attention. Nothing like a good steal to make up for a bad one, she thought.  
  
Michaela turned the corner of the street and stopped. Two gangs were facing each other, armed with knives and chains and slingshots. The air was thick and tense, and Michaela started to back away not wanting to get involved.  
  
"Spot!" Spinz cried with relief, noting the thin figure in the shadows. It halted and froze.  
  
Oh no. Don't tell me da guy dey got me confused wit' is in dis. Darn it. Michaela slowly turned around and waved shakily to the Brooklyn side. The tallest and meanest-looking boy on the opposite side stepped forward and grinned evilly.  
  
"Hello Spot Conlon. Nice of youse ta join us."  
  
***  
  
Spot woke up suddenly, groaning as he saw the familiar walls of the refuge. Why me? What'd I do dis time? 


	7. The Refuge

Author's Note: A-hem. Spark, I do thank you for your comments (maybe () Except, the reason she doesn't think they are confusing her with her brother is as follows:  
  
1. As far as she knows her brother is dead or still living with their mother far away.  
  
2. Spot? Where did that come from? Michael is her brother's name.  
  
3. etc.  
  
Anyways, so those are my reasons. I'd also like to thank ffdfd, Raven, Gypsy, Singah, e Maureen, Blaze, silversapphire, Rae Kelly, and Gloria. You guys give me motivation to write, thanks!  
  
CHAPTER 7:  
  
Michaela gulped. Dis does not look good. Wait a second…Conlon? What in da- her thoughts were interrupted by the blonde boy.  
  
"Spot?" Spinz and the rest of the Brooklyn newsies were looking at Michaela pleadingly. Michaela cleared her throat and walked over to them.  
  
"Uh, guys, look. I'm not sure who you t'ink I am, but I'm not Spot."  
  
The Queens newsies snickered and several "coward" and "told ya" 's were heard. The Brooklyn gang, however, looked at each other nervously.  
  
Spinz stepped forward and whispered urgently. "Spot, I know yer mad, but we have ta fight in dis. Youse can soak me later, but please help."  
  
Michaela sighed resignedly. I'm gonna regret dis. "Fine." She pulled out her slingshot and fingered her knife. Dis may get messy.  
  
***  
  
Spot held his head in his hands. Hereby sentenced to three years in the House of Refuge for disruptive and criminal behavior.  
  
Stealin' a woman's purse. I can't believe it. It's one t'ing ta get accused a somet'ing you did, but quite anudder ta get in trouble fer somet'ing you didn't. Whoever made dem put me in heah is gonna get soaked when I'se get out. Spot's eyes glittered angrily as he imagined the numerous ways of dealing with this person.  
  
***  
  
Michaela and Fists swiped at each other, both bleeding in various places. Over the last two hours the Brooklyn newsies had only a slight advantage because of their slingshots, size, and fierce 'leader'.  
  
'Spot' was a bit more classy and controlled in his fighting today. It seemed he had planned every move, yet he was also a bit clumsier, as if not quite accustomed to fighting in groups. One on one no one could beat him, but when there were several against him he seemed a bit stretched.  
  
Nonetheless, the Brooklyn newsies persevered. Michaela wiped her bloody mouth and glanced around the street. Darn it! Michaela pulled her hat farther down on her head as she spotted the Bulls coming towards them. What is wit' dem taday? Dey're everywhere!  
  
"Da Bulls! Cheese it!" The cry was taken up on both sides as newsies scattered every which way.  
  
Fists shook his fist at Michaela as he sprinted away, "Dis ain't ovah, Brooklyn!"  
  
Michaela scrambled over boxes and clung to the side of a building. She crawled up the walls and swung herself onto the rooftop where she could see the results of the police interruption on their fight.  
  
Several boys managed to twist out of the officers' hands and outrun them. Most were safely away, but Michaela's eyes settled on a small blonde boy. Recognition lit and she remembered the blonde boy with the slice underneath his eye that had apologized earlier to her. What was his name? Kix?  
  
Michaela watched as the poor guy was rounded up and hauled off, no doubt to the Refuge.  
  
***  
  
Kix struggled against the hands that grabbed him. "Let go a me!"  
  
He looked around wildly for Spot or Spinz. He noticed Spinz hiding in some shadows and looked pleadingly at him. Spinz held up two fingers, his index and his middle finger, and put them together like scissors.  
  
Kix nodded imperceptibly and stopped struggling. They would rescue him later that night.  
  
***  
  
Clips and Spinz moved out of the shadows several minutes after the Bulls had left. Brooklyn newsies reappeared from the directions they had vanished into minutes before. Spinz looked around for Spot, and noticed him on the roof beginning to slink away. "Spot!"  
  
Michaela muttered in annoyance. "I did my part. I fought wit' dem in dat stupid battle. Can't dey just leave me alone?"  
  
She stopped crawling away reluctantly and dropped down from the roof. She stood defensively in front of the gang, arms crossed. "What now?"  
  
Spinz raised an eyebrow at his leader's tone, but didn't comment. "I signaled Kix we'd get him out from the Refuge tanight."  
  
Several minutes passed in silence. Michaela shrugged uneasily under the attention she was receiving and sighed. "Fine. We'll get him out latah tanight, in a couple of hours. It's too early now. All a you bettah go get cleaned up, cause if any of us get caught tanight, Snyder won't help youse heal, I can guarantee dat."  
  
***  
  
Spot tapped his fingers impatiently on the floor. You'd t'ink da Brooklyn newsies wouldn't take dis long ta get dere own leadah out. C'mon guys, hurry up!  
  
***  
  
Snyder opened the door of Spot's 'cell' and shoved Kix inside. Kix caught himself from falling, and glared at Snyder as he shut and locked it.  
  
Kix sighed and turned around. He squinted at the figure sitting on the floor in the corner.  
  
"Spot!"  
  
Spot looked up, startled. Kix? What's he doin' heah? Why's he bleadin'?  
  
"Spot! I didn't know dey got youse too! Dose stupid Bulls!" Kix shook his fist and paced in front of his leader. "Man! And dey interrupted, too! We almost won the fight! Da Queen newsies were all on da ground, and you almost had finished off Fists!"  
  
Spot's eyes grew narrower as Kix talked. "So how'd you get in heah, Spot? It doesn't mattah. Spinz said he'd get us out latah tanight, den we can go finish our fight, and da Queens newsies won't know what hit 'em!" Kix chuckled in satisfaction, glancing down at Spot.  
  
His expression grew worried as he noticed the grim line Spot's mouth was in, and the set look in his eyes. Kix backed up slightly as Spot slowly stood up, and swinging out his fist, connected with Kix's jaw.  
  
  
  
  
  
AN- *hums merrily, ignoring glares sent by readers* 


	8. Unfinished business

Author's Note: *Ducks flying fruit and kitchen utensils, everything misses, smirks just as a gigantic cake collides with face* Hey! Dat hoit! Calm down! *more fruit* ok! I'se sorry! It wasn't my fault! Hear me out!  
  
Thanks. Now, foist of all all of my siblings boithdays, includin' mine is in dis month, second, school just started up again since last term, major projects were due. And thoid, we had Eisteddfod, which is like a gigantic talent show that goes for about 3 weeks, and I had to do band and music and dance in it.  
  
I should write more now though because all of my dance/piano/band classes ended for several months for a break, and I've gotten all of my assignments, well except one, in.  
  
Anyways, short chapter, but the other one should be up within the next couple a days.  
  
*debates in mind whether to tell you this, decides to, but holds up a plate as a shield* 197 people have updated since I last did!  
  
CHAPTER 8:  
  
"Ow." Kix put his hand to his jaw and moved it around. He looked at Spot. "What was dat for?"  
  
Spot ignored him and sat back down icily. Kix sank to the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest. Dis is gonna be a long wait.  
  
***  
  
Michaela looked around the Brooklyn Lodging House. Nice, bettah den da streets I live on. She grabbed Spinz as he walked by her. "Um, sorry, I forgot, which bunk is mine?"  
  
Spinz looked at her in concern. "Spot…you have yer own room, remember?"  
  
"Ovah dere," he added as she still looked blank.  
  
"Oh, thanks, um…Spinz."  
  
Spinz shook his head and walked off to his own bunk. Michaela sighed and walked over to the room. She opened the door and saw a very small bedroom. It only had enough space for one bunk bed, a little dresser, and very little floor space. It was closer to the size of a large closet than to the size of a regular bedroom.  
  
Michaela walked in and shut the door behind her. Small, but private. Man, I wonder who dis Spot is, and why he has my last name. Maybe dere is no Spot, and all dese guys are crazy.  
  
***  
  
Fists hit the stick against the palm of his hand. Darn it! We were so close.  
  
He turned around and spoke to the newsies who were bandaging and washing their cuts. "Okay, listen up. Da Bulls interrupted our fight, but we're gonna finish it tanight. As soon as everyone's ready, we'll head down ta da Brooklyn Lodging House and attack 'em in deir own ground. Dey won't know what hit 'em."  
  
The Queens newsies smiled and began to gather their knives and clubs.  
  
***  
  
Spinz stood up and grabbed his rope. "Okay, everyone ready. Once we get Kix, we'll come back heah, rest, and den tomorrow Spot'll talk ta Fists about anudder fight."  
  
Spinz glanced at Spot. He didn't think Spot would mind him taking charge for the time being, since he'd been uneasy when they'd looked to him to be the leader lately. Maybe he's sick, Spinz thought, looking at Spot's nervous face.  
  
The normal Spot Conlon was never nervous.  
  
***  
  
Michaela ran down the street with the rest of the Brooklyn newsies, keeping to the shadows. She kept her cap low over her face, watching out for Bulls. Ya never know how long dey'll hold a grudge, she thought.  
  
Spinz signaled Michaela and she snuck over behind him. "Me, Spot, and Clips will go up, da rest of youse stay down heah as lookouts."  
  
Everyone nodded and the three climbed quickly and quietly onto the roof. Clips was lowered down and Michaela and Spinz held the rope.  
  
Clips called, "Steady!" and whispered urgently to Kix. Kix stood up in relief and walked over to the window followed by an angry Spot.  
  
***  
  
Michaela grunted as she pulled against the rope. "How much does dis guy weigh?"  
  
Spinz shrugged and braced himself against the rope. "Hurry up!" He hissed to Clips.  
  
Several moments of silence passed, broken suddenly by, "Spot?! How'd youse get in heah?!"  
  
Michaela's eyes widened and the rope slipped between her fingers. Spinz pulled against it, but it slithered quickly over the edge of the roof. Luckily Clips managed to grab the window bars.  
  
Michaela peered over the top in surprise and guilt, and Kix, Clips, and Spinz looked back and forth between Spot and Michaela in shock. Spot was mad, Michaela scared. Oh, boy. Heah we go. If dis guy is da real leadah, and his own gang is afraid a him, I'm awfully glad he's in da Refuge right now.  
  
Michaela tilted her head suddenly at Spot. What da- He looked an awful lot like her…but the light was behind him and she couldn't see his facial features clearly.  
  
"Spot?" Spinz said tentively, looking at the 'Spot' inside the Refuge.  
  
Spot stared at Michaela, his mask dropping for a split second, "When last I checked…"  
  
Kix looked through the bars and craned his head up at Michaela, "Den who's dat?"  
  
Michaela licked her lips nervously, "Uh, heh heh…yeah." Okay now would definitely be a good time ta go. "Bye." She slipped into the shadows and leaped across the gap in the rooftops, fading into the night yet again.  
  
  
  
AN: See ya tomorra! Review! 


	9. I'll pass

Chapter 9:  
  
Spinz spun around and looked at Spot. Spot scowled, "Well, whaddaya waitin' fer? Get me out a heah! Clips, go round up da uddah newsies, we hafta catch dat imposter!"  
  
Spinz muttered to Clips before he dashed away, "I knew him lettin' me be in charge wouldn't last."  
  
Spot raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "What was dat?"  
  
"Nut'in'." Clips said, scrambling onto the roof.  
  
Spot smirked, "I thought not. Hurry up!"  
  
Spinz worked on the bars with his knife. "Heah we go! All aboard da Newsie Express!"  
  
Spot leapt out and scaled the wall in a second, disappearing into the night, the last thing he heard being, "Hey Kix, what happened to yer eye?"  
  
***  
  
Michaela ran through the street, knocking people out of the way in her path. The face of Spot had reminded her too much of her brother. Memories were flashing through her head too quickly to stop them, and she had no idea where she was headed, as long as she got away from the memories and the pain.  
  
"Young lady, eat your food properly. This orphanage is not for street rats with no manners."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"You refuse to tell us your name, you don't know where you live, you fight with the boys, you use slang, and one year here with us hasn't changed you one bit. You are not a young lady, you are a rascal, not fit to train into a proper young lady. You are not welcome here."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Kid, youse said you wanted ta loin how ta fight, stand still."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Kid, use yer fists, yer nails won't help youse every time."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Kid, get rid of da slingshot! Slingshots are no good if youse ain't in Brooklyn."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Kid, youse a great fightah, you've been wit' me fer da last 6 months. Go get 'em, tiger."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"I hereby sentence you to 3 years in the House of Refuge, in the hopes that you may grow into an intelligent young woman who is useful to society."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Hey, goily, youse in da refuge cause you don't know how ta steal. Watch dis. See? Dat warden didn't even notice. Now youse try."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Goily, are youse still heah? It's been 4 years already. Dey don't remember youse. Come wit' me. I'll help youse escape."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Bye, goily. See youse latah!"  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Michaela! I'm sorry! You can't leave, you love me. Stay."`  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Fine then! But don't come back begging me to love you again! Stay out!"  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Heya. Me name's Boxer, dese are my newsies. What's yer name? Alright Tim, welcome ta da Harlem newsies."  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"Youse a goil!"  
  
*FLASH*  
  
"C'mon! Get her, Boxer!"  
  
"Whatcha waiting fer?! Soak her!"  
  
!****SLAM****!  
  
Spot cleared his throat for the attention of his newsies. "ShADDUP! Alright, listen up. Somewhere around heah is a guy pretendin' ta be me. I'll deal wit' da rest of youse when we're done, but fer now we have ta find dis poison. Split up and spread out, meet at da Lodgin' House at midnight." The newsies scattered. Spot headed off by himself.  
  
***  
  
Michaela fell to the ground. Pain, she thought, lots of pain. She looked up sourly, a mean insult on the tip of her tongue. It died quickly and her face changed into an expression of self-pity as she mouthed, "Why me?"  
  
Fists hit the club against the palm of his hand, smirking. "Looky what we have heah. Da little Brooklyn leadah. Maybe he wants ta help us fix up his home. Den we can wait fer his little friends."  
  
Michaela grinned fakely up at him, "Uh, no, actually, I think I'll pass this time. Really. I don't mind...ow!"  
  
  
  
To be continued  
  
  
  
AN- I actually feel like I'm getting' where I want to go on dis story….it's quite satisfyin'! 


	10. The Battle

A.N.- 3 and a half pages! Am I good or what? I think you guys will be quite happy with this chapter, and I apologize profusely for not having written for such a long while. Ok, here's the deal, I'm leaving on a month long vacation next Thursday, (not this coming Thursday, but the Thursday after it, June 20) During that time, I won't be able to write any more.  
  
Now, if I get at least 15 reviews before this coming Sunday,(no one- liners!), I will FINISH this story and have it posted before I leave on vacation. How about that? Just think, in less than two weeks you will know the ending of this. And in a month, you will begin to read the next several stories I have half-finished in this series, about what happens following Mirror Image.  
  
Okay, well, we'll just see what happens, shall we? Ta-ta!  
  
Oh yeah! The astericks (*) indicate their thought, because italics do not upload on fanfiction.net Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Chapter 10:  
  
Spot swung his cane back and forth on his arm, gazing down alleyways and across streets. His expression was unreadable, calm and collected per usual. Anyone seeing the Brooklyn leader would never guess the turmoil his thoughts were in.  
  
*No one has evah been mistaken fer me since I was eight years old. Stupid impostah. Bringin' back stupid memories. I'll get him when we find him.*  
  
*Is he down dere? Nope, just boxes.*  
  
*Now I know what's been goin' on lately. Da gang's been reportin' back ta da impostah, which is why I have no clue what's happenin', yet dey assume I do.*  
  
*I hate dat impostah.*  
  
*What time is it? Fifteen minutes til midnight. Bettah get back ta da Lodgin' House.*  
  
*If dat little joik ain't dere when I get back, dere'll be a man hunt in New York dat'll be in all da papes. Den people can see da power a Brooklyn in action.*  
  
***  
  
Michaela dug her feet into the ground, with little effect. The Queens newsies dragged her and she ended up being pulled by her feet along the dirt.  
  
"STOP! I AIN'T DA BROOKLYN LEADAH! I AIN'T SPOT CONLON! LEMME GO! I TELL YOU I AIN'T SPOT!" Fists stopped, and with a flick of his wrist signaled his newsies to drop her legs.  
  
He bent over, grabbing her slingshot and staring into her eyes. "I'se hoid lots a t'ings 'bout da famous Brooklyn leadah," he said, so quiet only she heard him. "but I ain't never hoid what a chicken he is."  
  
Michaela stared back at him, unashamed, "well, den it's a good t'ing I ain't him."  
  
Fists stood up, sneering. He turned the slingshot over in his hand, and Michaela's eyes flickered nervously to it. "You'se won't be needin' dis."  
  
Michaela held her breath, but to her surprise he didn't break it. Fists tucked it into his pants and patted it, "But I will."  
  
Another signal and they were moving on stealthily to the Lodging House, just up ahead.  
  
***  
  
"JACK! JACK!!!!!"  
  
A clamor outside of Medda's made most of her audience murmur irritably and Medda herself to smile self-consciously, eyes darting from side to side looking for the newsie in question.  
  
"Lemme go, I have ta find Jack!" A tall skinny boy pushed past Toby and ran into the auditorium.  
  
Medda stopped singing and gazed at a balcony in the center of the room. A figure stood up and waved his hand, "I'm heah, what is it Bronny?"  
  
The newsie glanced around at the crowd who eyed him curiously. "Uh, maybe we'se should go outside."  
  
Jack laughed, calming the other newsies and Medda. He casually walked outside, but as soon as he was out of view, dropped the pose. "What's wrong?"  
  
Bronny leaned down and placed his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "Brooklyn's havin' a bit of trouble dese days. Spot told me ta tell youse dat you need to watch all yer newsies, keep dem inside. A fight wit' Queens was interrupted, and Spot don't t'ink dey'll be all dat patient ta finish it. Dey may attack even yer newsies. Spot says dat he'll be down soon, and not ta answer any questions."  
  
Jack rubbed his forehead for a minute, nodded and walked back inside.  
  
***  
  
Clips shook his head as he made his way over to Spinz, who sighed. "Man, Spot's really mad. I don't even blame him. What kinda tough gang are we if we'se can't even recognize our own leadah?"  
  
Kix kicked the building. A group of restless Brooklyn newsies waited in front of the Lodging House, looking around for Spot.  
  
Several minutes later, one of the boys turned around and found Spot standing next to him, muttering to himself. "Spot! No one could find him. We'se don't know wheah he is."  
  
Spot glanced up at him briefly, "I know."  
  
The newsies waited for their orders, and at last Spot spoke again. "Ok, everyone up ta bed. We have a fight tamorra, and aftah dat we'se gonna find dat joik. Go."  
  
Grumbling, the newsies headed inside. Spinz stepped inside the door first, shaking his head. Suddenly he crumpled to the ground, blood trickling down his side.  
  
Chaos ensued.  
  
***  
  
Michaela pounded on the door of Spot's bedroom. "LET ME OUTTA HEAH! I AIN'T SPOT! I DON'T CARE ABOUT YER STUPID TERRITORY! LET ME OUT!!!!!"  
  
She kicked it hard, but the door was made of solid wood and she barely left an indent. Michaela spun around on her heel and marched over to the window, gazing down once more on the unsuspecting Brooklyn newsies below. As she watched, a group of newsies headed towards the door. "Don't! It's a trap, you'se bettah watch out," she whispered, hopelessly.  
  
The one boy (Spinz?) stepped out of her line of view towards the door, and Michaela's anger flared again. "DON'T, IT'S A TRAP!!!!!" she screamed, pounding on the window with her fists.  
  
She could see Spot, the newsies she had been mistaken for, turn around suddenly and turn angry. A sudden commotion began in the ranks and they all ran towards the door, pulling out slingshots and shooters.  
  
The most experienced shooters began arranging themselves in a definite, obviously well-rehearsed, pattern. Shooting at and breaking any windows the saw movement behind, the Brooklyn newsies began fighting back with a zest. Their Lodging House may be destroyed, but no one gets the better of Brooklyn and gets away with it.  
  
Michaela jumped back from the window, holding her pillow over her head to protect herself from window glass. *And I thought Brooklyn would be fun*, she thought drily.  
  
***  
  
Spot shouted orders to the scattered newsies. They began to pull themselves together and fight back. Spot shoved newsies out of the way, fighting to get to the door. He reached it, knocked the Queens newsies out of the way, and knelt down next to Spinz.  
  
"Spinz! C'mon man, wake up," he muttered, checking the flow of blood. He ripped off the corner of his shirt, holding it again the wound. It wasn't deep, it looked more like it would be a bruise than anything else. Someone had definitely taken a club to him.  
  
Spot pulled Spinz out of the way of fighting, and stood up. He looked around at all the chaos, shaking his head. An angry glint appeared in his eyes as he saw a fleeting glimpse of Fists up the stairs. *Dis is gonna end right now.*  
  
***  
  
Michaela heard a commotion outside the door of Spot's room. "Brooklyn is regaining control, we need to show them Spot."  
  
The door opened, and Fists reached in and grabbed her arm, yanking her off the bed. He obviously did not have a pleasant experience in mind, so Michaela did what any self-respecting, street-rat would do. She dug in her heels, leaned backwards with her one hand, grabbed a stick that was leaning against the dresser and whacked Fists upside the head with it.  
  
Fists let go of her arm, holding his head in pain. He dropped his hands after a moment and took a step closer to her. Michaela backed into the room. He stared at her menacingly, and reached out a hand, "Give me da cane."  
  
Michaela glanced down at the stick in surprise, and then shock took over. She stared at her brother's birthday present in disbelief, her eyes drinking in every detail of Michael's cherished cane. *Oh my-*  
  
Fists reached over and grabbed the cane out of her loose grasp, raising it to hit her. Michaela backed up again, when suddenly the cane was pulled from Fists hands.  
  
Fists spun around angrily, when he stopped dead. "What da-"  
  
Spot stood there, tapping his cane against his hand, several Queens newsies moaning on the ground at his feet.  
  
  
  
*To Be Continued*  
  
  
  
WAIT!!!! Read this!!!!!  
  
A.N.-I strongly suggest that those of you who are at all interested in this story, and have not already read the author's note at the top of this page, do so now. 


	11. Territories

Author's Note: Wow, at least I was gone for most of the time fanfiction.net was screwed up. No reviews at all, sigh, why did the review thingy have to mess up too? Well, anyways, Thankyou to Jazz, Gypsy, E Maureen, Draco's Secret Lover, Spark, and Ashley, who did review. And my undying gratitude to Spark for giving me her comments twice over when I accidentally deleted them. Gracious. This is the last chapter, the only part left in this story to go is the epilogue. There are a lot more stories which I wrote before this one, which take place after Mirror Image. Farewell all, 'til we meet again! Ciara Lewis  
  
Chapter 11:  
  
The glint in Spot's eyes showed the danger Fists was currently in. Fists however, was too pre-occupied to notice. He looked over his shoulder at Michaela, who leapt away from the window as it shattered into pieces, a marble rolling on the ground, and then back at Spot. A question formed in his eyes, and he hesitated, unsure of which was the true Brooklyn leader.  
  
  
  
Spot grew irritated rather quickly at not being paid attention to. He tapped Fists on the shoulder with his cane, and when the bully turned his head, punched him hard in the stomach. Fists doubled over, holding his stomach, then, using his head, barreled into Spot, knocking him to the ground.  
  
  
  
Fists pounced on Spot, taking advantage of his momentary lead. He pummeled the floor again and again, Spot rolling from side to side to avoid his fists.  
  
  
  
"I just have one question." Fists said, connecting with Spot's left shoulder.  
  
  
  
"And what.would that be?" Spot asked, clenching his teeth from the pain and kicking upwards with his foot, throwing his opponent off him. Spot leapt to his feet in a split second, fists raised. Fists did likewise, nodding his head to Michaela. "Who's yer double?"  
  
  
  
Spot glanced at the back of the room, distracted for the moment. "You!"  
  
  
  
Michaela was pushing the remains of the jagged glass out of the window, preparing to escape. She jumped, startled, and stared at Spot, "Michael?" She whispered faintly, too quietly to be heard, studying Spot's face.  
  
  
  
Spot jerked sharply, barely avoiding yet another of Fists' attempts. His attention returned to his enemy, saving Michaela for later.  
  
  
  
A sharp pain spread from the middle of his back suddenly, and Spot whirled around to face a group of Queens newsies. Spot swung his head around at Fists, who wiped the blood from his face, grinning triumphantly.  
  
  
  
Spot ground his teeth and took a deep breath, trying to be logical. Unable to think of an alternate solution, he raised his clenched hands, willing to take on the whole of Queens. A few of them snickered, mocking his attempts.  
  
  
  
Michaela peeked around Fists and her shoulders dropped. She looked wistfully out the window, then back at her brother, *If this is truly Michael, I can't let him go killing himself, much as his pride warrants it.*  
  
  
  
Michaela brushed past the Queens leader, moving to stand beside Spot. Several of the newsies were caught rather off guard, and stared at the two. Spot glanced at Michaela and clenched his jaw. "I don't need youse, of all people, helpin' me. I can handle dis on my own."  
  
  
  
Michaela looked him in the eyes, and said calmly, "It'll take more den dat ta get rid a me, Michael."  
  
  
  
Spot lowered his fists, staring at her, shaken. Michaela nodded slowly, answering the silent question. A slow grin spread across Spot's face, and he turned back to the Queens newsies, raising his hands yet again.  
  
  
  
"Heya, Fists, ready ta go back ta yer own territory? Cause I shoah don't remembah Brooklyn being part of Queens, and it shoah ain't gonna become part today."  
  
  
  
Fists nodded to his newsies, and they began to converge upon the twins. He looked at Spot, his eyes wavering for a minute between him and Michaela. "Give it up, Conlon. Even you and yer little double ain't gonna take on the whole of Queens. You can't expect ta win."  
  
  
  
"No, but we can." A new voice replied, coming from behind Fists. Jack Kelly stepped up next to Spot, his eyes flicking questioningly over Michaela, and the rest of the Manhattan newsies poured into the room. Brooklyn newsies were popping up like daisies around the room, appearing from thin air.  
  
  
  
Brooklyn and Manhattan vs. Queens.  
  
  
  
Spot straightened and tilted his head cockily at the Queens leader, giving him one of his trademark smirks. "You were sayin'?"  
  
  
  
Fists angrily lunged for Spot, who sidestepped, causing the huge newsie to land on his hands and knees. He was up again quickly, but Spot had gotten around him and leapt onto his back once he was standing. Fists dropped to the floor and Spot whispered something into his ear. The room was deadly silent, all three groups of newsies staring at the pair on the ground. A couple were glancing at Michaela, uneasily.  
  
  
  
Spot jumped off of Fists a moment later, and the beaten Queens leader stood up and headed towards the door, but Michaela stopped him, clearing her throat and holding out her hand.  
  
  
  
He glared at her fiercely, but at look from Spot, grumblingly reached into his pocket and handed her the slingshot. Then he waved his hand and left the Lodging House, with his gang following in his wake.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Spot turned to Jack, breathing heavily, "I thought I told youse ta stay in Manhattan." His gaze flickered to the Brooklyn messenger. Bronny fidgeted, looking guilty.  
  
  
  
Jack grinned, "When was da last time I listened ta youse? I can't seem ta remembah."  
  
  
  
Spot smiled crookedly, running a hand through his hair. He glanced hesitantly at Michaela, who looked equally uncomfortable.  
  
  
  
Jack's glance darted between the two, then landed on the Brooklyn newsies, hovering close by, ready to pounce on Michaela at a word from their leader.  
  
  
  
Spot, however, didn't seem to notice. He stared at Michaela, eye level with her. Then he reached up slowly and gently lifted off her hat. Golden hair tumbled down out of the hat and settled around her waist. Icy blue eyes met his, twinkling, and she lifted her arms towards him.  
  
  
  
Spot Conlon, the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, who had never 'hugged' anyone in all of newsie history, wrapped her in his arms, amidst the astonished faces of the newsies of Brooklyn and Manhattan.  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
  
  
A.N. I still have the epilogue to go, so there's still a little more! REVIEW, and I'm sure the epilogue will be posted sooner! 


	12. Epilogue

Author's Note: Well, I suppose dis is my last author's note for dis story at least. Wow, I'm finally done wit' it. It took an awful long time, but I do believe it was worth it. Don't you? Ok, the next story that happens after this is called Paving The Way. It's not really about Michaela and Spot, but it's in the same series, so you'll hear about them occasionally, and eventually another whole story about them. Exciting, eh? Well, I suppose I should leave you to it. REVIEW!!!!!!! Please, please, please, review!  
  
  
  
Epilogue:  
  
  
  
A light breeze ruffled Michaela's hair as she walked through Brooklyn at twilight. Spot walked beside her, absorbed in his own thoughts. Michaela listened to the raindrops trickling off the roofs of the buildings and their footsteps against the docks, and smiled to herself. So, this was really happening. She had really found her brother who she hadn't seen for seven years.  
  
They reached the end of the docks and Michaela stared ahead, taking in the stormy color of the water. The wind was picking up, flinging rain into her face. Michaela took off her hat and threw her head back, refreshed. She sat down and glanced up at her brother who was staring into the water intensely.  
  
"Michael."  
  
He started and his eyes focused in on her instead. He sat down on the dock as well, and gave a lopsided grin, "Spot."  
  
Michaela raised an eyebrow, mentally thinking that she had to ask him about his nickname sometime. She was silent for a moment, then spoke again, turning fully to him and taking a deep breath.  
  
"What 'appened? Mom's not alive is she? Wheah'd youse go? Da leadah of BROOKLYN? How'd dat come 'bout? Wh."  
  
Spot cut her off, laughing. "Wait, wait! Please. One question at a time."  
  
Michaela looked at him, "Where's Mom?"  
  
Spot was silent for a second, and his voice cracked when he spoke again. "Dead." He cleared his throat, turning his head, "She's dead. She got sick aftah we found out 'bout da fiah. Six months latah she died."  
  
Michaela closed her eyes and swallowed. She opened her eyes again, blinking quickly to keep the tears from flowing. "What'd you do?"  
  
"Ran away. I wasn't gonna be sent ta some stupid orphanage. I came heah an' was a thief fer awhile, den I became a newsie an' now I'm da leadah of Brooklyn." Spot said, a touch of pride in his voice.  
  
Michaela half-smiled, then bit her lip, "Um.didja, didja evah find Dad?"  
  
"Yeah." He didn't elaborate, and Michaela filled in the blanks.  
  
Silence reigned for several minutes, and it was broken only by Michaela slipping off her shoes and dipping her feet into the water, kicking them back and forth.  
  
"What 'bout youse?"  
  
"Hm? Oh. Well, aftah da fiah, I was sent ta an orphanage, but I got kicked out, cause I wouldn't behave 'properly'. Den some guys from Midtown taught me ta fight well, an' aftah six months, I left an' was caught stealin' an' put in da refuge. Dere was dis guy dere." Michaela laughed a little, remembering the boy.  
  
"He 'perfected' me thievin' 'bilities, den helped me escape." A shadow passed over her face as she remembered what happened next. She glanced at her brother and decided that part could wait. "Uh, yeah well, den I met up wit' da Harlem newsies, an' was a newsie fer awhile. Dey found out I was a goil an' I got inna fight wit Boxer. Well, den I came heah an' got confused as youse."  
  
"Whaddya gonna do now?" Spot asked bluntly.  
  
"Well, I t'ought maybe I'd head back up ta Midtown, I'd like ta see some of da guys again. Aftah dat.who knows?"  
  
Spot stood up and held his hand out for Michaela. She grabbed it and jumped up. She slipped her feet back into her shoes and they began to walk back.  
  
Spot stopped on the steps of the Lodging House, and Michaela glanced at him to see what the hesitation was. He looked up at her and spoke haltingly, uncomfortable. "Michaela.I don't suppose youse would wanna stay heah fer awhile, wouldja? I mean, I jist found youse an' now yer leavin' again, I t'ink we should get ta know each udder bettah, don't you?"  
  
Michaela peeked up at her brother. He was fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable asking for something that she could easily turn down. *He apparently doesn't share his feelings very often*, she observed.  
  
Spot watched her impatiently, wanting her answer. "Well?"  
  
Michaela grinned at him. "I'd love ta."  
  
Spot grinned back in relief and began to step inside, but stopped again. He looked back at her with mischief in his eyes, and she thought that for one split moment she saw her twin brother again, impish and childlike as always. "I don't suppose ya wanna put yer hair back undah yer hat fer a bit, do ya?"  
  
Michaela glanced up at Michael and, for the first time in years, the mirror caught not only their faces, but their hearts.  
  
THE END 


End file.
